


Round Two

by Spinifex



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Comedy, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Holodeck Banter, Humour, Second Time, XOs for the XOs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinifex/pseuds/Spinifex
Summary: There's much to do on La Sirena.It seems to Raffi that she and Seven, having now tasted the not-particularly-forbidden, but still incredibly delicious fruit, were doomed to forever be too busy to actually *get busy*, ever again.
Relationships: Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 26
Kudos: 42
Collections: XOs for the XOs





	Round Two

“You are infuriating.” 

The frown lines interrupting the plane of Seven’s brow were directed squarely at Raffi Musiker, who sat dangling her legs over the side of the polished wood counter in the middle of J.L.’s fancy French kitchen hologram. There was a mixing bowl of flour by Raffi’s side and a recipe book propped open on her lap. Her bare feet sported manicured toenails painted cherry-red. Her only pair of pretty shoes stood neatly by the holosuite door, which was currently disguised as part of the kitchen. Raffi held their place in the book with a finger and set it open on the counter, with a snap that made the pages flutter. Seven darted to take the book from the table, moving it away from Raffi’s annoying interference. Raffi smirked and the taller woman’s fond eyes tracked the other. It was almost too easy to wind the Fenris Ranger up. 

“I still think it would be better if we made it with chocolate,” Raffi said, as Seven’s glare burned fiery devastation in response to the truly heathen suggestion. Honestly, if Raffi had suggested that they season the cake with the tears of lonely infants, she would probably get the exact same reaction.

“The recipe calls for strawberries.” Seven’s jaw was resolute. 

That was another secretly hilarious thing about the outwardly serious woman that Raffi was discovering. Seven of Nine, Ex-Borg Fenris Ranger from the Delta Quadrant, did not look kindly upon recipe alterations.

Raffi reached for the two large eggs from the carton beside her and handed them across her lap to the Ranger. Seven took them, their fingers brushing despite Seven’s scowl.

Seven and the ship’s de facto executive officer had finally gotten…’closer’ in their little dance towards each other. And yes, their first time had been heated and unplanned and Raffi’s execution of the main event had been totally awkward. It was a good thing they’d only beamed in space rocks when Raffi had backed her ass into the transporter console. But damn, it had been worth every second of the wait.

Now Raffi was desperately wondering if they’d ever get the timing right for another night alone. They’d squeezed in moments between bridge shifts and missions, but there hadn’t been the opportunity for anything more complicated than quiet conversations and holding hands. Somehow, the boredom of space travel was also filled with a quagmire of maintenance and administrative tasks. No amount of lustful fantasy could outbid complete exhaustion. 

It wasn’t easy, but they were getting there. The last time she’d caught a private moment with Seven was several days ago; a rushed tangle of mouths and limbs against a dusty rock formation on a planet-side mission for pat’iv’i fruit, of all things. That had been an outlier in their hectic schedules, it turned out. Raffi was still buzzing over the pleasant, but also rapidly-growing-distant memory of Seven’s hands beneath her vest, before their comms badges had started bleating. Rios’s urgent gabble had alerted the crew that things had started turning southward, and it was really, _extremely_ time to go, and _‘Damn it, Raff, where the hell are you two?’_

Their circumstances still hadn’t allowed for the right mood or conditions to well, to get it _on_ , so to speak. While the Ranger’s heated looks and her fleeting touches reassured Raffi that Seven was still _definitely_ interested, the X.O. had to admit that she was growing rather impatient. It seemed to Raffi that she and Seven, having now tasted the not-particularly-forbidden, but still incredibly delicious fruit, were doomed to forever be too busy to actually _get busy,_ ever again.

One free hour on the holodeck was a gift from heaven for which Raffi now owed Captain Rios _big time_. She’d be doing nothing but red-eye bridge shifts and clearing docking codes for a week. Maybe more. It didn’t matter. She’d organised a date with Seven, and now here they were. Bickering over whether it was wise to combine strawberry buttercream icing with chocolate cake. Seven was extremely stubborn, and like the Borg Drone she used to be, also extremely resistant. Raffi conceded therefore, that perhaps the Ranger was winning.

The X.O. had worn her shortest and cutest wrap-around dress for the occasion. The rose madder and polka-dotted material was like a blush against her dark skin. The bolder-than-usual neckline of the bodice was definitely drawing Seven’s attention. Despite their current argument, Raffi was pleased to note that her outfit was having the desired effect. The Ranger would not stop sneaking glances at the curve of Raffi’s bare thigh, where the edges of her skirt fell open.

Raffi shifted deliberately upon the countertop. Seven’s eyes flickered down to Raffi’s hemline and then back up again. Raffi watched as Seven bit her lip, took a large inhale of air and pretended that she hadn’t been looking. The heat in the Ranger’s gaze was at odds with her cake-related frown. 

“Look, all I’m saying is that you won’t know how good strawberry buttercream icing is until you’ve tried it with chocolate,” Raffi insisted, “trust me.”

Seven cracked both of the eggs that she’d been holding with sharp percussive movements against the counter. She drew their shells apart and released the contents into the mixing bowl. Her frown was relenting, but her lips were still puckered in a moue of consternation. Raffi was wondering just how much longer she’d be forced to wait until Seven caved in and put those lips on hers again. Raffi knew that she could probably just ask her, but the anticipation of Seven’s ardour was also half the fun. Raffi would make it.

The Ranger’s eyes flicked over towards Raffi. This time skittering along the vee of Raffi’s neckline before travelling back to the X.O.’s face. “Need I remind you of the last time you made a suggestion that ended with the phrasing _‘trust me’_?” 

Seven tossed in a three-quarter teaspoon of salt. Neither woman paid much attention as the white crystals vanished into the mixing bowl. Raffi was busy watching the way the Ranger’s plush lips moved. Seven was watching Raffi watching her.

Seven’s ocular implant was immobile as her human eyebrow raised. “I am not sure that Captain Rios will ever be the same.”

Raffi winced at the uncomfortable memory. _Ah, yes. Altona Four._ It was a fair concern to raise. Crís had still not entirely recovered between that mission and the one with the giant green space hand. 

But _still_. 

“Oh, come on,” Raffi protested. “How could any of us have reasonably predicted his reaction?” Her ponytail bounced in a cloud behind her head as her hands moved in an emphatic semicircle.

“The man has a _passion_ for eels.”

The buttermilk, oil, and vanilla went in next. The fine hairs on the back of Seven’s forearm caught the faint glow of holographic sunlight coming in through the kitchen windows. She had her sleeves pushed up to her elbows. The ribbed cotton material was bunched around her pale skin. The metal of Seven’s left arm clicked against the counter when she rested her wrist upon it. Raffi wondered idly if she’d lose her fingers if she reached out and touched the Ranger’s hand. Perhaps their debate over chocolate cake and strawberry icing was getting a little bit out of control.

“Please do not remind me,” Seven said. “I have the dubious honour of a photographic memory. Unlike Kathryn, I cannot simply ‘delete the wife’”.

Raffi scoffed and pushed down on the kitchen counter with both hands to shuffle closer to Seven. She smirked when the Ranger unsubtly shifted the recipe book out of her reach, although Seven herself stepped close enough to brush her arm against Raffi’s side. The knuckles of Seven’s free hand lingered warmly against the skin of Raffi’s thigh, where it was uncovered by her sundress. Seven had that awkward-shifty-innocent expression on her face that Raffi recognised as an attempt at feigned carelessness.

There were acres of free surface on either side of the kitchen’s island counter. But no, Seven was choosing to be all up in the X.O.’s personal space. Both Raffi and the Ranger knew that Seven didn’t do ‘careless’. Seven of Nine was the poster-child of efficiency and control. They sang songs of the Ranger’s collectedness from Fenris to New Chennai.

Raffi smothered an anticipatory smile. 

“I still can’t believe you got it on with _the_ Kathryn Janeway,” Raffi said. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she recalled a few of the stories she’d heard about the famous captain. Not all of them were complimentary.

“That woman is _such_ a…” 

Raffi had not thought that it could be physically possible, but somehow Seven’s eyebrow arched even higher. She did a secret little dance of triumph, winding Seven up was like teasing a drowsy lioness. Not knowing when she’d take a swipe was a large part of the thrill. This was how they’d ended up with Raffi pressed up against the rockface, with Seven’s hands inside her vest and Seven’s teeth dragging at Raffi’s lower lip on that dusty planet the last time. The X.O. had been so turned on by Seven's urgency during that mission that she'd almost started coming within seconds of the Ranger's fingers shoving their way into her underwear. At least they were almost entirely assured that there’d be no ship-wide emergency this time. Woe betide any external parties who planned otherwise. 

Rafaella Musiker was a woman on a mission, and nobody was going to argue against it.

“Are you sure you want to end that sentence?” Seven said. 

“...a legend,” said Raffi, “I was going to say she was a legend.”

Seven rolled her eyes and held her right hand out for the wooden spoon. Her left tapped an impatient rhythm against the mixing bowl. Her fingertips made a metallic, staccato tippity-tap. Raffi suspected Seven was tapping out insults in morse-code. Seven would be one to sass like that. She’d mentioned a friend, _Tom Paris,_ if Raffi’s memory served her correctly. He taught Seven every stupid joke and double entendre that Raffi knew of. Sometimes Seven would come up with a new burn independently, and the results were amazing. The Ranger’s tongue kept darting out to wet her lips as she waited for the X.O. to hand the utensil across to her.

Raffi shrugged, which made her cleavage bounce in such a way that was guaranteed to drag Seven’s attention back down to her chest. The wrap-around sundress had definitely been a good idea. Goad Seven into action without directly asking her. It was definitely the only way to go. The Ranger fumbled with the mixing bowl in one hand and her recently-acquired spoon in the other. Her grey-blue eyes were fixed exactly where the X.O. expected they’d be.

Raffi reached over and steadied both the Ranger’s hand and the shuddering mixing bowl. 

“Careful there,” she said. “We don’t want all this cake prep to go to waste.”

Seven gave the mess of flour and sugar and flavourings a proprietary stir as she briskly folded the ingredients together. 

She stopped dead when Raffi dipped a sneaky digit into the mixture. 

The Ranger’s nostrils flared.

Raffi lifted her hand up to her mouth and sucked the cake mix off her finger. Slowly. 

Seven’s full lips parted. Her eyes went wide.

Raffi drew her forefinger from between her lips with a satisfied ‘ _pop!_ ’ She nodded pensively, as though she was a connoisseur.

“Hmm, not bad. This’ll be a great cake. Even without the chocolate,” Raffi said.

The X.O. looked up at Seven through her eyelashes and grinned. Oh, yes. She was definitely winning. She took a moment to cross her legs. Seven’s cheeks blushed red and her eyes grew wider. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips again.

“Do we have enough sugar for the buttercream icing?” Raffi wondered innocently.

The metal-bottomed mixing bowl scraped loudly over the kitchen's island counter as it was pushed aside in haste by the Ranger. There was a protracted clanging as Seven nearly knocked the entire thing over. Luckily the only casualty was the wooden spoon, which flipped exuberantly from the mixing bowl and downwards to the tiled-stone floor. 

“Raffi-”

Raffi shivered with anticipation. She hid it by uncrossing her legs and then leaning backwards to look over the edge of the counter where their wooden spoon had fallen. She could hear Seven inhale deeply.

“Oh, don’t you wanna finish making the cake?” The X.O. was trying very hard not to laugh. 

She felt Seven shuffle closer, and sat up again to find the Fenris Ranger practically devouring her with her eyes. 

Seven bit her lip decisively. Then swept the counter behind Raffi clear of flour and eggs, and vanilla essence too. Raffi’s pulse fluttered. She might have been a woman on a mission, but Seven of Nine was a woman with a _plan_. 

_Finally._ The lioness was taking a swipe.

“Raffi. This cake can go fuck itself. The buttercream icing can fuck right off too. I do not prescribe to any gods, but sweet Jesus if you don’t let me kiss you right now-”

Seven stopped talking because the X.O. let out a startled burst of laughter and pulled the Ranger over to stand between her parted legs. Raffi had one dark-skinned knee on either side of Seven’s hips as she wound her arms around Seven’s neck. 

“You mean like this?”

Raffi closed the distance between their lips. 

The Ranger sighed with pleasure when Raffi drew back again. She gazed at Raffi through half-lidded eyes.

“Yes,” Seven said. She lifted her right hand and brushed her thumb over the X.O.’s bottom lip. Her forefinger trailed after. 

“Exactly like that.”

Raffi lightly flicked out her tongue and brushed it over the pads of Seven’s thumb and forefinger. Then she leaned forwards and kissed Seven again, her fingers pressing in at Seven’s waist. The X.O. could taste the faint traces of vanilla and sugar on her own teeth, and hoped that Seven did too. 

It didn’t take long before the Ranger’s hands started wandering; over the short sleeves on Raffi’s shoulders, and then down to the vee of material that was wrapped over her breasts. The Ranger broke away and leaned her brow against Raffi’s forehead. Her eyes had drifted closed as she explored the X.O.’s cleavage, and then her hands wandered further down to the crumpled bow of material that held the dress closed at Raffi’s waist.

“This dress,” Seven said. She sounded flustered and appreciative as she finally opened her eyes and smiled wide.

“You didn’t really think I invited you here just to bake a cake and argue over icing flavours, did you?” Raffi said. She took both of the Ranger’s hands in hers and then moved them to her hips. 

Seven gave a rumbling growl and immediately slid her hands to Raffi’s knees and pulled her closer, until the other woman was nearly perched upon the very corner of the countertop. Seven’s mouth slid over Raffi’s as the Ranger pushed the rumpled skirt material up until it bundled and draped up high around the X.O.’s thighs.

“No. Not really,” Seven agreed. Her teeth nipped Raffi’s jawline as her hands coaxed the other woman to spread her legs wide. 

“I’m not hungry for cake,” the Ranger said.

Well now. That was an idea Raffi could get behind. Or, underneath at very least. The X.O. curled her fingers into Seven’s hair as the Ranger quirked her human eyebrow and then bent down until her face was level with Raffi’s knees. The other woman was getting hot and bothered just from the way the Ranger studied her, like she was busily gathering intel. Seven was clearly making judgements about the dress that Raffi was wearing and was considering the pros and cons of taking it off her. The appreciation in Seven's eyes and the way that she roughed her palms over everything the fabric covered suggested that the Ranger liked the idea of fucking Raffi while keeping all of her clothing on. Seven seemed to be getting a _thing_ for that. If it meant getting results like this, then Raffi certainly didn't mind. 

Raffi braced one arm behind her butt and canted her hips forwards. The folds of the dress fell higher against her waist, leaving her bare legs open to Seven's delighted gaze. The X.O. had worn lace underpants for this occasion, a thrilling fact to which Seven of Nine was only now being made aware. Raffi grinned at the unconscious sound of pure lust that the Ranger made when first her eyes and then her fingertips made contact with the black lace. Raffi was aware that she was trying to be patient and to keep waiting for Seven to pounce,- or, continue pouncing, but the suggestiveness in that sound simply broke the X.O.'s resolve. 

“Seven, I’ve been waiting for _hours_ to be alone with you. Please, please, please don't make me wait for this any longer than I have to.” Raffi decided that she might as well give up on patience and begged. The fingers of Raffi's other hand were still tangled into Seven’s hair.

Seven grinned like a wildcat, leaned inward, and dragged the hot, wet, flat of her tongue over the thin fabric of Raffi’s underwear. Like the sundress, the black lace was inspired. Seven huffed out a deliberate, slow breath over the shaking woman’s labia and then paused deliberately over her clitoris and then drew back again with a promise in her eyes. She pressed a kiss against the skin of Raffi’s thigh and slipped her fingers into the hem on the leg of Raffi’s underwear and pulled it to one side. 

Raffi made an incoherent noise before regaining control of her own mouth.

" _Oh, god_. What are you waiting for?" she said.

“You only had to ask, you know,” the Ranger said. “I’ve been wanting more of this as much as you. I think about you constantly.”

There were two soft thumps as Seven knelt upon the floor, feasting her eyes on the woman spread out before her. Raffi found herself thinking wildly that the counter’s height was quite convenient, actually. It suited Seven’s height quite well. 

Then the Ranger slid her mouth over the heat between Raffi’s thighs and proceeded to turn the X.O. into a quivering, wanton heap. With extra sound effects. Raffi was thankful that she’d remembered to secure the holosuite doors under Maintenance Code C. Seven flicked her tongue deftly across Raffi’s clitoris. Her thumbs massaged patterns along the warm skin of the X.O.’s open thighs.

Raffi pretty much stopped thinking about anything other than Seven after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout outs to authors whose things I borrowed:
> 
> New Chennai: Voluptuous Panic  
> Maintenance Code C: Regional Pancake  
> Pat'iv'i Fruit: Eligh
> 
> Extra thanks to Regional Pancake for the audience beta and countertop research testing.  
> She does important work.


End file.
